Magic Tricks
by thevelvetkey
Summary: Tattoostuck. DirkJake. Rated K because drunk character and a few swear words, otherwise perfectly safe. Your name is Dirk Strider. People know you as the ridiculously cool guy who owns a tattoo studio in the not-so-safe area of town.


Tattoostuck – Or whatever you want to call it

A DirkJake Fanfiction

This ff is partially Lunahras' fault because she asked me about my opinion on a tattoo idea and it resulted in this.

 **Magic Tricks**

Your name is Dirk Strider. People know you as the ridiculously cool guy who owns a tattoo studio in the not-so-safe area of town. Of course, that's not actually bad for your business. You have a lot of drunk people coming in, demanding one of your ironically good tattoos in their drunk idiocy and you happily comply. And no one is stupid enough to seriously demand their money back. You got swords – ironically shitty swords, of course – and you know how to use them.

Right now, there is a guy in your shop, looking at the catalog of smuppet tattoos you have on display. For some reason, drunk people love smuppet tattoos. You notice that your client has directed his attention to another catalog, which gives you a better front view.

Green eyes were glazed with a haze that was caused by too much alcohol and a strong flush decorated dark brown cheeks. The hair, okay, that's nothing new to you, you already noticed it when your customer entered, was so disheveled, it looked like he had lived on some isolated island for a few years and thus doesn't know what a comb is.

Those are all factors that make your heart beat faster. But the one thing, the one and only, that makes you fall down the goddamned staircase, is that charming and radiant smile. Your Bro would probably start laughing at you right now. But luckily, you're a Strider and Strider's know how to put on a pokerface.

You see the way too good-looking guy move towards you and snap out of your inner monolog just in time. "Hey mate, I decided what I want to get." The guy sounds excited, just like a kid ready to open his Christmas presents. You refrain from describing his voice as angelic in your head, because you are not too sure if it would be ironic or not. You wonder if you were by chance also influenced by alcohol to think about something this stupid.

You say something, but don't register what it was. You hope you stayed professional. The guy smiles even brighter now. How is that even possible? "So, I was thinking about this one here, on my left upper arm, I suppose?" You somehow manage to stop staring at your customer – you're so glad you wear your shades all the time – and redirect your gaze to his choice of shitty tattoo. It was one from the SBaHJ series. A shitty webcomic and movie straight out Strider production. "Sure, you got it." You tell him. When you name your price, he starts looking for his wallet, but doesn't seem to find it. He goes through all his pockets, but all he finds is a quarter dollar.

"How about I pay with a magic trick?" he suggests. "I know some good tricks - my friends like them a lot." _Magic tricks won't fill my bank account though_ , you add in your thoughts and give him an annoyed stare. He misinterprets your silence as a yes or maybe he can't see your stare through the shades. "Jake the magician will now make this coin disappear!" he proclaims in a more serious voice. He takes the coin into his right hand and places it in his left which he curls into a fist then. Something inside of you wishes for him to drop the coin and get all embarrassed over it. Jake then opens his left hand and shows you an empty palm. "Oh? What is this?" Please don't let that guy do the 'It's in your ear' trick. "It's in your ear!" he says happily, all seriousness lost. He is so drunk, he probably forgot why he was acting all serious to begin with.

He leans forward, too much for your taste, as he slightly touches your ear and messes up the side of your hair. Your heart beats faster as he accidentally touches your chest when he tries to regain his balance because he stood up too fast while trying to get that coin behind your ear. He is so close, you can already make out how much he drank by smelling his breath. Finally, he pulls away, coin between his middle and index finger, smiling brightly. "Sooo, is this good enough as payment?"

You should know better. You should, but you don't. You swear you are blushing right now, even though Striders don't blush. You run a hand through your hair, trying to regain a calmer state of mind. "Okay. You get your tattoo. And the take-care-of-your-tattoo talk afterwards, because that magic trick was real sweet." You fail, fall down the rest of the staircase and hit the ground hard.

The guy… _Jake_ no longer looks like a puppy sitting in the rain and more like an excited puppy with a new toy.

You make sure that the tattoo is extra shitty.

You're Jake English and you just woke up with a strong headache. You don't remember much; only that you went partying with your good friend Roxy Lalonde whom you were visiting for a while. You can smell pancakes, so you guess she woke up earlier and started making breakfast.

Slowly, you get up and move through the apartment towards the kitchen. You see Roxy sitting on the kitchen counter, a plate with a mountain of pancakes on her lap. Next to her is another plate with an even larger mountain of baked goods.

You assume it's yours and grab it while thanking her. Instead of joining Roxy on the counter, you pull back a chair and seat yourself next to a big wooden table. Instantly, you grab the syrup bottle and drown your food in a sugary mess. You convince yourself that sugar will definitely help to improve your condition.

Roxy keeps staring at you. Curiously. Inquiring. It is making you nervous and you know she can feel it bugging you, because she finally speaks up. "Soooo, Jakey, have you brushed ur teeth already?" she asks you. Suspicion rises within you, something feels wrong. "Not yet." She raises an eyebrow. "Then how about you do that now?" Is it your imagination or is she grinning like the Cheshire Cat? One thing for sure, you don't want to be Alice with the headache you're experiencing right now.

All the time you spend in the bathroom made you almost crazy. What was Roxy trying to tell you? You still had all your teeth, so you probably weren't in a bar fight. And there is nothing else noteworthy you can see. But, what you do notice is that you are still wearing yesterday's clothes which probably means you slept in them. Maybe, it is a good time for a shower. You start to undress.

For a brief moment, you are Roxy Lalonde and you hear a high-pitched scream from your bathroom.

Once again, you are Dirk Strider and you see yesterday's customer stare at your studio from across the street. You wonder if he will ever work up enough courage to come in and complain. There is no other reason for him to be standing there other than complaining, you guess. His tat was one of the ironically best you ever made. You wonder if Jake is too embarrassed to storm into your studio, since it was his own, drunken decision to let you permanently doodle on his arm. You pull out one of your shitty ninja swords from under the counter and start polishing it.

The bell rings and informs you that someone has come in. Why do you have a doorbell in a tattoo studio? Well, why not? You look up and are not the slightest bit surprised to see Jake had finally entered.

Your customer scratches his head and his smile seems a tad too stiff. "Hey mate," he says and pauses. You only raise an eyebrow. "So, listen, about the tattoo, I guess, I haven't thought that through yesterday and…" "No refunds, no nothing. You agreed to not come looking for money. Right here." You pull out a document you make all the drunks sign. "Dude, please, make an exception. For me." Jake pulls one of the smiles that already got you good yesterday. You can feel your blood flow to your cheeks, but you try to stay calm because you are a Strider. "Listen, I can't give you back any money, because you never fucking paid me shit."

Something is seriously wrong with you. Maybe you are sick. It would explain all the shit that slips past your lips. Jake blinks. "I… didn't?" he asks confused. Now that you have said so much already, you can go all the way with this train wreck. "You only had a quarter dollar. And you did some really bad magic tricks. Then I decided to do it for free." You facepalm. He gives you a really strange look, which turns into a concentrated stare. Then, revelation and embarrassment. "I… might remember some of it… Sorry, mate." Congratulations, you just achieved a facepalm x2 combo! "Seems like I am at fault here, so erm, can I do something to make up for the trouble I've caused?" You think this is a first – a customer trying to get back his money is actually offering you compensation. Since you are a Strider, you take every chance you get.

You are Jake English and you are not sure what exactly has happened, but you now have a date with a certain Dirk Strider, owner of a shitty tattoo studio.


End file.
